


Put a Little Love on Me

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s14e08 Byzantium, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Takes place during the episode "Byzantium."  After the scene of Team Free Will sitting up late drinking and remembering Jack, Sam leaves and Castiel can't help his feelings for Dean from coming to the surface.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	Put a Little Love on Me

Sam went off to bed, leaving Dean and Castiel sitting alone together, with the obvious expectation between them that one would have to be the first to break the usual tension and walk away. 

Castiel stood and rounded the table, unable to leave Dean there without resting a hand on his shoulder, but...then it felt suddenly too difficult, or too great an effort, anyway, to remove his fingers from the soft grey flannel where they’d fallen, sloppily, weightily, as if it was where they belonged.

Dean was only mildly surprised by the lingering touch and the firming of Castiel’s grasp, his shirt caught up tightly in those angel fingers. He looked up at him beseechingly and asked, “We did everything we could for him, right?”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know, Dean. I don’t know.” He went on massaging Dean’s shoulder as the grief rippled quietly between them, grief now accompanied, if not assuaged, by a familiarly warm, tingling craving that pooled, eager and automatic in their bellies.

Dean gave a low, husky chuckle and rolled his shoulder back gently. “I’m okay, Cas, really. You can stop that now.”

No. Not tonight. Not for tonight the usual rigmarole, pretending to be fine walking off alone to his room, just to stare up at the ceiling with his empty arms stretched open out on the bed, his heart gnawed and throbbing with loneliness and unspoken desire. Cas was so emotionally exhausted by Jack’s death and the feeling of total uselessness that came with it; he couldn’t summon the energy for artifice.

Instead, he nodded and muttered, “I know,” continuing to rove his hand over Dean’s back, making his friend’s stunning green eyes widen, his lips parting in confusion.

Artlessly, Cas sank to his knees between Dean’s and planted a hand on each of them, not shyly, but with blatant pressure, although the look on his face was supplicating: _don’t deny this, don’t turn me away._

“I...Cas, what are you doing?” Dean’s voice was a strained rasp, his hands falling on Castiel’s but not to push away.

They both knew exactly what this was about.

Cas let out a sigh of relief as Dean stopped asking questions and moved his hands up, grazing over his groin where the angel let his thumb glide firmly along the side of his friend’s wakening cock. 

“Fuck,” Dean hissed, his hand rising into Castiel’s hair, digging in as his friend continued to stroke him and his hips jerked up of their own volition. “God! Yes.” 

Dean gave a ragged nod as Cas licked his lips and looked to him again for approval, confirmation to keep going. 

“Yes, Cas,” Dean begged, cupping his face, tracing his lips. “Yes.”

Castiel opened his mouth and took Dean’s thumb inside, licking and sucking and rolling it around on his tongue as he worked open the button and fly on Dean’s jeans.

Dean lunged forward and seized him by the shoulders, devouring Castiel’s full lips in a hot, full-throttle kiss, and it was everything they both needed. Cas lifted up, clasping Dean’s face and parting his lips further to invite that sleekly perfect tongue, the kiss between them too hard and aggressive, bruising and biting. 

He’d always known there would be the burn of Dean’s stubble on his mouth and skin, although none of his previous imaginings of this had included the taste of chocolatey caramel mixed with the usual whiskey. He’d known his friend’s mouth would be lush and relentless under his exploration, had dreamed countless times of Dean’s sighs and of swallowing them like life-breath, but he had not anticipated the overpowering passion of doing this in reality, actually feeling these sensations. He was rocked to the core, his own cock straining heavy and hard against his trousers, his hands flying under Dean’s shirt and roving over his beautiful body, needing to feel every inch, claim it, own it, _fuck_. The pain of wanting Dean never hurt so badly as it did when he tasted him, nearly had him.

“Cas!” Dean broke off breathlessly, pressing their foreheads together. “Maybe...maybe we should slow down, man.”

One corner of Castiel’s mouth tweaked, and then they both burst out laughing. The laughter hurt against lungs still aching from tears, most smothered and unshed, for Jack, hearts still hurting from that loss, but all at once the same sense of failure which had lowered their impulse control made them reckless. What the hell did they have to lose at this point?

Dean lifted his hips to let Castiel lower his jeans and briefs, the moment so surreal that his vision felt hazy from more than the liquor. In fact, since his friend had started _touching_ him like that, stroking him, kissing him, dammit, Dean had actually sobered up faster than he would have thought possible out of sheer, elated, terrified shock.

Castiel shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor before he kneeled again, somber as in prayer and licked just once, subserviently, up Dean’s hard, salty, throbbing dick. 

“Fuck, man, my God,” Dean panted, sweat breaking out across his brow as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, threading his fingers again through Castiel’s hair. “Don’t stop.”

Dean realized it felt so much better to do this with the one he really wanted, the only one. He realized with new clarity how stupid and hollow all those other hook-ups had been in the years since meeting Cas and getting closer, skating around their attraction out of pure fear, fear of feeling so intensely about any-damn-one, never mind a man, never mind his best friend.

Having Castiel’s beautiful mouth around him felt better than anything ever had, and he couldn’t even imagine how it would feel if they went further, if they-- 

“Don’t stop,” he pleaded, pushing Castiel’s head along with the rhythm of his thrusts as he slid in and out of those tightly exquisite lips, down into that beckoning throat, spit and precum dripping between them, only the occasional gasp and muffled noise of involuntary protest as Castiel acclimated and went along, his eagerness to please Dean turning greedily ambitious.

Dean was going to come; he could feel the pressure tightening and mounting inside him, all the blood in his body pumping towards it, his heart hammering, but it was too fast, too soon, and he stopped moving all of a sudden, then eased out of Castiel’s mouth with a groan so loud he could only hope they wouldn’t wake Sam. 

“Did I...do it wrong?” Cas asked, wiping his mouth and breathing heavily, looking up at him with such heartbreaking, rueful near-despair that Dean wouldn’t stand it.

“No, Cas, of course not,” he insisted, standing shakily and dragging Cas up with him. 

He fastened his jeans again, then pulled Cas into a hug. “That was the best thing I ever felt. I just didn’t want it to be over so soon.”

“It was my first time doing that, so I didn’t know,” Castiel admitted shyly, clinging to Dean. Into his ear, Cas added, “Come to my room?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, taking his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and all of a sudden he realized it was, that it always had been. 

This passion between them, which he’d worried would tear them apart and ruin their friendship, what if it was actually the grace sent by an otherwise uncaring universe to bind them closer than ever, save them both from this life’s ceaseless barrage of misery? He could almost believe it right then, which was outrageous in its own right.

Dean backed Castiel up against the closed door of his room once they were inside, pinning his hands by his head and kissing him, rough and deep, tasting his own precum on Cas’ tongue, dizzy from the raw eroticism. He yanked off Castiel’s tie and pushed his collar open to kiss and lick his neck, biting and sucking until he was even giddier and Cas was groaning, panting almost nonsensically, “More. More, more, more…”

They ripped each other’s clothes off, finally revealing with what complete loathing they regarded these impediments between them, just as much as they hated their own pride and hesitation, but now it was all gone, just two strong naked bodies stumbling onto a bed, no grappling for dominance, just an easy but harsh grinding. More wild kisses unfurled as Dean eventually realized he was lying on his back and Castiel was between his thighs, _licking_ his face around his mouth, teasing him, savoring the prickle of his burgeoning beard, reaching down to press their cocks together.

Dean was the pushy one, the aggressor. Since they’d started this encounter, Castiel had been gentler while Dean pushed, but now he felt it more than ever, what he wanted from this moment: to let go, to be protected, loved, and thoroughly wrecked.

“Fuck me?” he asked hoarsely, batting his long lashes at Cas as his friend released a blissed-out sigh. Dean’s throat was dry, his heart as overstimulated as his rigid cock, still half-damp with Castiel’s saliva. 

“I think I should probably add that I love you,” Dean blurted, one hand cupped around Castiel’s face as the other rested on his back, over the sensitive area holding in his wings. 

“I love you,” Castiel answered, tender but heated, and began to grind again, slowly, taking charge, and Dean moaned, his body going loose and compliant, anticipatory pleasure sizzling over his skin. “I need you.”

He reached over to his bedside table drawer and Dean, who hadn’t really stopped to think about logistics, blushed at the sight of the tube of lubricant which Cas matter-of-factly flipped open, squeezing clear, thick liquid into his palm.

Cas straddled Dean, both of them still vigorously eye-fucking each other’s bodies, traveling over firm muscles, sculpted chests and the soft slopes of their bellies above their flushed, engorged erections. Dean knew he would never forget Castiel’s incomparably handsome face, the way he moaned and his eyes fluttered shut while he slicked the lube over his cock, then pressed another dollop to Dean’s hole, circling it with his thumb.

The angel was more than excited; he was confident, going on instinct… _experienced_?

“Hey, I thought you said you’d never done this before,” Dean interrupted, earning a wicked glance of wry disapproval at his would-be jealousy. 

Never, until tonight, had he fully allowed himself to realize how it would hurt him if Cas was with another man, if he couldn’t be his first. What an asinine, ignorant thought to have about an immortal being who was ultimately above gender and probably above human concerns like having just one true love. A “forever” kind of love was just nonsense previously dismissed by Dean as the same sort of bullshit that made idiots buy valentines on February 14, or get fucking _married_ as if the world wasn’t going to hell in a handbasket and there was still something to live for, something like devotion.

But Castiel was, and had always seemed somewhat human to him because of the sweet, touchable vulnerability of his love, and to Dean he was a man, but more than that, _his_ man.

“I’ve only done it alone, to myself,” Cas explained, the second clarification hilariously pointless, but his tone catching somewhere between haughty and amused in a way that made Dean even harder. “While watching pornography.” He sighed again in strained pleasure, stroking his cock and teasing Dean’s entrance with it, tapping it like a little spanking. Dean’s cock jerked all by itself at the sensation. 

“And I always imagined we’d flip,” Cas added nonchalantly. But the words made Dean’s heart stop.

“You wanted this...how long?”

“Always,” Castiel admitted, no longer bashful but urgent, demanding that Dean face the obviousness of this truth.

Dean leaned up to capture Castiel’s lips and said softly, “Me, too. I’m sorry.”

No need to elaborate on the many times he’d pulled back from Castiel’s lingering touches or resisted the urge to embrace when they both knew he wanted to. No need to question how Castiel had felt about watching Dean dance with pretty strangers at plenty of bars along their road trips. It was all just typical Dean, throwing up walls to keep his heart safe, but still, he’d never been able to keep Cas out of it, or out of his thoughts, no matter who else he was with. Lonely. Pointless. But not anymore.

“I’m not sorry,” Cas smiled against his lips. “This is perfect. It’s the right time, somehow. Right now, when everything else is wrong...can you feel that, too?”

“Yeah.” Dean clutched Cas and kissed him again for all he was worth, willing him to feel how deeply he was loved. But there was more he could do to show him, and now he never wanted to stop.

Dean’s legs fell open and he willed himself to be softly available to Castiel’s fingers stretching him tenderly, first with one digit slowly entering, then a second, twisting, scissoring, and Dean grabbed Castiel’s thigh, biting his own hand to muffle the loud cries building up in him at the gorgeous pain of the penetration. 

“You feel amazing,” Cas exulted, and Dean watched him in spellbound wonderment as he thrust a third finger in, eliciting a sharp gasp when he curled his fingers and ignited a tensed, swollen gland. Dean’s eyes filled with tears of disbelief as he cried out in ecstatic surprise. 

“Oh! I was hoping I could do that,” Castiel said with an adorable, pleased little smile.

“Cas,” Dean shuddered, pulling his lover close and hitching his legs up around Castiel’s back once Cas had replaced his fingers with his throbbing member, pressing slowly inside with a resounding growl.

He breathed in the smell of endearingly cheap aftershave, whiskey and candy on Cas’ skin, mixed with their sweat and arousal, and bore the weight of Cas’ thickness sinking inside him with a euphoric gasp. 

“It’s so good,” he moaned, and Cas kissed him again and again as he started to move, delving a little deeper, then slipping in to the hilt as they parted mouths long enough to lock eyes in astonishment. 

“So good, Cas,” Dean grunted, and Cas responded by pulling out almost all the way, then plunging in hard and deep, out of words to spill over this union aside from ragged groans and Dean’s name mixed in with expletives which, coming from Castiel, would have made him laugh under normal circumstances. 

Cas set a slow, smoldering rhythm but kept the pressure and intensity strong, slamming in with long strokes until neither one of them could take the tension anymore and Dean’s nails dug a red trail down his back. 

“Give me everything, all of you,” Dean demanded, and something hardened like icy crystal in Cas’ no-longer innocent eyes.

He lifted up and flung one of Dean’s legs over his shoulder, then pounded into him with all his strength, fast and feverish, one hand holding Dean’s ankle in place as the other tightened a vice grip on his hip, and it was all Dean could do to rove his own shaking hand over his cock as Castiel exploded inside him, hot, so hot and gushing, setting off Dean’s own climax until he was spurting all over his hand and stomach, moaning, staring up at Cas, enraptured.

“Dean,” Cas praised, voice gravelly as he lowered Dean’s leg and sank down to kiss his mouth, going on too long, leaving their lips swollen but still wanting more. He stayed inside Dean for too long as well, and didn’t want to pull out at all, just wanted to stay _there_ , held and conquering.

They cleaned up, then Dean pulled him into a snug embrace, resting his head on Castiel's chest and pulling a blanket up to cover them to their bellies, just enough to take the edge off their shaking, nervous states, but not enough warmth to worsen their considerable sheen of sweat.

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe you came inside me,” Dean groaned, so turned on he could barely breathe. He held Cas tightly, then leaned up to bite his earlobe, shivering all over. “I can’t believe you were inside me.”

“I wish we could always be this close,” Cas murmured, self-conscious, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “I want to do this every night with you, every day. I want you inside me, too.”

“Hey,” Dean smiled tearfully, tipping Cas’ face to his, pressing a tender kiss to his delightedly sore, pretty mouth. “We can. I want to. This isn’t some whim to me, Cas, this honesty. I’m in love with you. I don’t want to turn back now, not ever again. I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone like this before.”

Ten years of pining changed into this, now, the two of them together giving Dean these mad sentimental urges, making him want crazy things they could never have, wedding rings and a home of their own, cuddling up at night and thinking up names for their kids. He could feel his way back over the rubble of the path that led them here, he could still feel their beginning, but the end was nowhere in sight, common sense be damned.

“Well.” Cas stared at Dean, examining him as if looking for the catch. He brushed his knuckles down Dean’s chest and torso, as if he couldn’t quite get over the fact that he was allowed to touch his bare form just as he liked, whenever he wanted. He smiled again, overjoyed and cutely playing it down. “Okay, then. It’s you and me.”

“Damn right.” Dean shot Cas that smug, know-it-all smirk that never failed to get a rise out of him. “It’s you and me. About time, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of fun fluffiness! Couldn't help it after re-watching that scene. Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading <3


End file.
